


Five Times Gabriel Almost Caught Aziraphale and Crowley Fraternizing and One Time He Did

by AtoTimber



Series: Crazy Little Thing Called Love [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Cute, Deleted Scenes, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Other, Picnics, Pining, Secret Relationship, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-23 13:24:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19702261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtoTimber/pseuds/AtoTimber
Summary: The angel didn’t move. He was lost in thought, stuck staring where the Bentley once was. At least they still had the picnic.“Aziraphale?” A voice rang out across the street.It was then that Aziraphale realized he was staring at a pair of gray slacks. “Oh dear.”





	1. Paris, Distractions

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Throughout this fic, and especially in this chapter, you'll notice that I've taken a couple scenes from the show and extrapolated upon them. Because of such, I've taken a few creative liberties, but nothing should be too distracting. Enjoy <3 Also HUGE thanks to [sleepyMortiz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catherss/pseuds/sleepyMoritz) for beta reading my fic <3 Go check 'em out!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dashing rescuer saves a grateful Angel from imminent discorporation, much to plan, but a surprise awaits them in the compound that sends Aziraphale panicking.

_Paris, 1793,_

“Look, this is all a _terrible_ mistake! I don’t think you understand.” Aziraphale pleaded to the French executioner.

“I have _good_ news for you. You are the 999th Aristo to die at the guillotine by my hand, but the first English!” The executioner said. “Now.”

“Please! No!” Aziraphale said with a sense of urgency. “Dreadful mistake, discorporating me. Oh, it’ll be a _complete_ nightmare.” 

The painfully familiar _clang_ of a guillotine rang through the cell, followed shortly by the cheers of a crowd. “Animals.” Aziraphale muttered under his breath. It was then that the world seemed _wrong_. All of the cheering had abruptly cut off, and it surely wasn’t a mass beheading. Something was amiss. The silence was unsettling, but something broke it. 

“Animals don’t kill each other with clever machines, Angel. Only humans do that.” Came a familiar voice. 

“Crowley.” Aziraphale said fondly, excitement clear as day in the way his eyes lit up. As Aziraphale turned to face Crowley, he took in his appearance. “Oh, good Lord.” 

Crowley was dressed like a French worker, albeit very stylish. Shockingly stylish, in fact. His dark red hair was curled in an almost unnatural way, resembling a wig more than a head of hair. Aziraphale thought he looked good, but in an entirely tacky way. A pair of dark glasses adorned Crowley’s face to mask his snake eyes, but Aziraphale wasn’t entirely certain that type of glass should exist just yet. 

“What the deuce are you doing locked up in the Bastille?” Crowley asked aggressively. “I thought you were opening a book shop.”

“Well, I was.” Aziraphale started, feeling embarrassment rise in his cheeks. “I got peckish.”

_“Peckish?”_

“Well if you must know, it was the crêpes! You can’t get decent ones anywhere but Paris." The angel caved, his mouth watering at the thought of the French cuisine. "And the brioche." That much was true. Before the 20th Century, Paris was the only place with crepes worth eating.

Crowley was in disbelief at the sheer stupidity Aziraphale had exhibited. As soon as the news reached him of an English aristocrat being locked up, he knew it must have been Aziraphale. The angel went to odd lengths for food. “So you just popped across the Channel during a revolution, because you wanted something to nibble? Dressed like that?” 

“I have standards.” Aziraphale replied, slightly offended. In reality, Aziraphale knew he’d surely be imprisoned. Crowley hadn’t crossed his path in far too long, so he figured this would be enough to get him crawling out. That had proved an ingenious plan. The best place to find a demon was wherever the most death was. “I heard they were getting a bit carried away over here, but-”

“Yeah, this is not getting carried away.” Crowley interrupted, “this is cutting off lots of people’s heads very efficiently with a big head-cutting machine. Why didn’t you just perform another miracle and go home?” 

“I was reprimanded last month. They said I’d performed too many frivolous miracles.” Aziraphale explained, sighing as he thought about the incident. “Got a strongly worded note from Gabriel.”

“Well, you’re lucky I was in the area.” Crowley replied. It was an odd thought, an angel being reprimanded for doing his job. But they were a stern bunch, that much Crowley knew better than anyone. Perhaps the readiness and speed of which Aziraphale helps startled Heaven. 

“I suppose I am.” Aziraphale replied, blush creeping in his cheeks.

Aziraphale ended up asking Crowley to lunch to make up for the rescue, much to Crowley’s reluctance, but exactly to plan. The pair walked through the French fortress on their way to get some delicious crêpes when Aziraphale yanked Crowley around a corner. Shocked by the sudden aggression, Crowley pulled out of his grasp and looked at him with wide eyes. “Gabriel. Gabriel is here.” Aziraphale explained, taking in Crowley’s bewildered expression.

“What?” Crowley hissed, peering around the corner. 

“Stop, he’ll see you!" Aziraphale whisper-shouted and pulled Crowley closer. "Why is he here?"

The two were very close; Aziraphale’s arm was tight against Crowley's chest. The demon glanced down, suddenly very aware of the proximity between him and the angel. He knew he had to think of a plan to pull Gabriel away for Aziraphale’s sake, but he also didn’t want to lose the touch. Selfish. He chalked it up to the thrill of touching something _not_ diseased for the first time in millennia. Like Hell he’d touch any of the filthy demons in the underworld. 

He had standards. 

“Okay, Angel. I’ll deal with this.” Crowley said and took Aziraphale’s arm with a gentle touch, pushing past him. 

Crowley sauntered toward the Archangel, with no semblance of a plan but a heart full of confidence. “Gabriel, pal! How ya been?” 

“Crowley? Long time no see, demon. This is some fine work, I’ll be honest.” Gabriel tentatively praised and turned to face the red-head. 

He circled to the other side of Gabriel so he wouldn’t be facing the door and continued, “Oh , this isn’t us. This lot thought it up themselves.” He looked past Gabriel and directly at Aziraphale. He gestured quickly with his head to the exit. Vamoose, Angel.

Aziraphale took note and quickly put himself together and rushed out of the fortress. Once he found his way out, he leaned against a wall and sighed. Then he smiled. Adrenaline, fear, and love coursed through his veins. It was still up in the air if he had those. A very profound feeling of fondness for Crowley arose, and he found himself appreciating the demon just a little more. Mostly their agreement, though. Okay, maybe not just the agreement. Maybe it is Crowley. Or just the joy of avoiding discorporation. The latter was easier to accept. 

Crowley may have said it in jest, but Aziraphale definitely _was_ lucky to have him; he had been saved _twice_ in the span of ten minutes. If that didn’t prove Crowley cared, he didn’t know what did. Although, he was fairly certain that it would take him 6000 more years to admit it. 

Aziraphale’s mind suddenly flooded with concern. Surely he couldn’t distract Gabriel for _that_ long? He was convinced something must have happened to Crowley. After a couple more minutes of waiting, he heard the heavy wooden door creak open. Excitement sparkling in his eyes, Aziraphale looked to the door fully expecting his red-headed friend to stroll out. Much to his dismay, a tall man in a light suit walked out. In a panic, Aziraphale tried to rush away, but it was too late. “Aziraphale? Is that you?” Gabriel called out. 

“N-no!” Aziraphale called back and continued to fast walk away. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Aziraphale stopped in his tracks and turned to face Gabriel. “Okay fine. I came for crêpes. And to see what Hell did here. That good enough for you?” 

“Appreciating craftsmanship, I get it. Just make sure you don’t get too attached to Hell’s work, yeah?” Gabriel joked, lightly punching Aziraphale’s shoulder. “I’ll never understand why you eat, though. I’ll be back the next time we need you, Aziraphale.” Gabriel replied, then vanished with a swift miracle. 

Aziraphale felt the tension leave his body and let out a deep breath. Before he had a chance to fully relax he remembered he still hadn’t found Crowley. His eyes widened and he rushed back into the compound to find his friend. The panic he felt wasn’t unfounded, as Archangels _were_ known to occasionally show unprecedented brutality towards demons. But it would be misleading to assume Gabriel would dirty his hands, let alone the clothes he treasured. In a hurry to go inside, he swung the door open and collided with another body, sending them flat on their ass. “Oh my gosh, I’m so- Crowley?” Aziraphale was shocked to see his friend knocked to the floor.

“Ow. What the hell, Aziraphale?” Crowley said with a wince and placed a hand to his forehead. "If you didn’t want to go to lunch with me anymore, just tell me."

“I’m so sorry, Crowley! I was worried, I thought maybe Gabriel did something to you!” Aziraphale extended the demon a hand to help him up.

“ _That_ guy? Please, Angel, he’s a clown in a suit. He’s not exactly _intimidating_.” Crowley said as he took Aziraphale’s hand. 

The demon rubbed his head as he stood up, then felt something wet dripping onto his mouth. He gingerly prodded beneath his nose then looked at his fingers. “Oh, what the Hell? I didn’t even know I could bleed!” 

“Weren’t you tortured when you fell?” Aziraphale asked.

“I wasn’t exactly in this form, Aziraphale.” Crowley snapped. He was still touchy about that. 

“Oh right. Sorry.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go get some damned crêpes. You owe me, oh, three now was it?” Crowley said as he grabbed Aziraphale’s arm and began walking.

“Yes, yes of course. I do hope they aren’t damned though.” 


	2. St. James Park, Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A big request turns into even more regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> exposition and sadness: the chapter

_St. James Park, London, 1862,_

Crowley had asked Aziraphale to meet him in the park today. He had a risky request for the angel. The demon was well aware this request was obscenely desperate, and in all likelihood Aziraphale wouldn’t do it for him, but he had to try. Hell wasn’t a safe place to be, certainly not for a demon that shrugs his work and is best friends with an angel. He covertly slipped Aziraphale a scrap of paper that read ‘Holy Water’, hoping to have some insurance in case he got in trouble. The Dukes of Hell would not go easy on him, he was sure of that. Aziraphale looked at Crowley but the demon refused to face him. “I’m not an idiot, Crowley.” The angel pleaded. 

It was clear he thought Crowley wanted the water to kill himself with, but he couldn’t be more wrong. Crowley was already flustered from asking and he didn’t know how to convince Aziraphale that wasn’t why he wanted it. His mind was swirling at the accusation and he felt lost. 

“Do you know what trouble I’d be in if,” Aziraphale paused to think. “If they knew I’d been _fraternizing_? It’s completely out of the question!” 

“Fraternizing?” Crowley hissed back. He couldn’t _believe_ that after hundreds of years of friendship, Aziraphale had the _audacity_ to call it fraternizing. 

While it was, in fact, an accurate descriptor of their relationship, that didn’t stop it from offending Crowley. A term so purely scandalous didn’t sit well with him. 

“Well, whatever you wish to call it.” Aziraphale defended his phrasing. “I do not think there is any point in discussing this further.”

Crowley felt like a fool. “I have lots of other people to fraternize with, Angel.” He lashed out.

“Of course you do.”

“I don’t need you.” Crowley regretted it the second the words left his mouth.

“Well, and the feeling is mutual. Obviously.” Aziraphale shouted back as he threw the note into the pond. 

Crowley watched the paper land on the water and burst into flames. How many times could one being fall? “Obviously.” He said in mockery as a feeble attempt to feel better. 

He couldn’t bear to watch the angel walk away, so he stared at the ducks. His eyes were everywhere but Aziraphale. Sat to his left was a man in a light suit reading the newspaper. He looked familiar but Crowley couldn’t place it. His head wasn’t exactly functioning properly right now. The man looked right at Crowley, then past his shoulder, presumably at the angel storming off. Had they really been so obvious with this fight that random people were noticing? Crowley shivered at being noticed and walked away. He made a pointed effort to avoid looking where Aziraphale was. In doing so, he walked right past the man with the newspaper. Crowley spared a glance at the man’s face. His eyes. There was something odd about the man’s eyes. They were... purple? Crowley tried to shrug it off. He couldn’t trust his eyes right now, and if it _was_ an angel, who cares? There was nothing suspicious about an argument between a demon and an angel. 

Crowley wasn’t sure if he’d ever forgive himself for what he said to Aziraphale. He had responded to care and worry with what? Anger? His only friend walked away from him because he was stupid. So stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He never should’ve asked for the holy water. Crowley _knew_ it was a stretch to ask for, but he didn’t foresee losing the only person keeping him on this godforsaken earth. Crowley loathed himself for lashing out. It was a ridiculous and deeply flawed defense mechanism. If he had just _known_ or thought for more than two seconds about it, he never would’ve asked. Of course an angel couldn’t give him holy water. How stupid do you have to be to ask that? And how stupid to get upset when he couldn’t? 

The loss of a best friend was almost certain to Crowley. Their relationship was so tenuous, how could he be certain he'd aver see Aziraphale again? What reason would he have to talk to him again? Their friendship already defied the rules of being, what were the odds they’d ever come together again? He never thought there’d be a day where the loss of an angel hurt more than not having holy water, but here he was. He was so stupid for asking, so stupid for making a deal, and so incredibly stupid for caring about that poor excuse of an angel. 

Crowley was determined to win Aziraphale back, holy water be damned. He wasn’t going to let this go. He had spent too long build a relationship with Aziraphale for this to slip over something so petty. Their lunch dates were some of the most fun Crowley has had in his near 6000 years of life. He still remembered their first meeting. That was when he knew he absolutely _had_ to befriend Aziraphale, no matter the consequences. The holy principality Aziraphale, choosing the wrong action in the Garden of Eden . That was priceless, wasn’t it? Not because it was a mistake, but because it showed how utterly _perfect_ he was. The angel always tried to do what was best for humanity, rather than what he was told to do. Crowley respected that more than he could ever explain. Aziraphale truly cared for this earth, and so did Crowley. He would win his angel back even if it killed him. 

  



	3. Soho, Mistimed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Aziraphale makes a rash decision too late and ends up face to face with an Archangel.

_Soho, London, 1967,_

“You go too fast for me, Crowley.” Aziraphale spoke quietly, pain and fear flooding his mind.

Crowley opened his mouth to say something, but Aziraphale already left the Bentley. He didn’t move for some time, instead opting to stare at the thermos. It was unheard of, you know. An angel risking so much for a demon. Well, an angel risking _anything_ for a demon was unheard of. It _had_ gone the other way before, of course, but only by Crowley. Angels are predisposed to love and care, and demons to tempt and destroy-but perhaps their bond transcended inherent feelings. It was entirely possible that they had found something new, and neither would forget about it. Crowley stared at the thermos and smiled, just a little. He thought of the promised picnic and dinner date and figured all would be okay in the end.

The pair hadn’t spoken since Crowley saved Aziraphale from the Nazi double-cross, and although time passed differently for supernatural beings as it did to humans, it was still far too long for Crowley. 1941 was possibly the only time Crowley was glad that Nazis went to hell, since it was the only reason he knew where Aziraphale was. Nazis were fun to mess with and bully, but if he were honest, he wished he never saw them at all. They were one group that made Crowley believe his job didn’t change a thing.

Crowley had admitted to himself, finally, that he was just a touch soft for Aziraphale. Naturally, every admission still comes with more lies. He told himself he only felt fondness because the angel changed his mind and handed Crowley a thermos full of holy water. Obviously. But if he were really, truly, immeasurably honest with himself—which he never would be—then he had a soft spot for Aziraphale since the Garden of Eden. He always put his neck on the line to make sure Aziraphale was safe. The pair had plenty of similarities, and Crowley was well-aware that Aziraphale had blossoming disobedience. 

That scared him. 

It reminded him of the angel he once was. The one that fell. The one that questioned the Almighty's plans. Crowley’s heart was ludicrously full of warmth for the angel and he was determined to protect him. Crowley wondered if he still had a white feather somewhere. He was a creature made for indulgence and sin, yet Aziraphale made him feel so righteous and so _wrong_ \- by a demon’s standards _._ To him, Aziraphale was worth a millennia of suffering, even if he wasn’t aware of it. Crowley gingerly placed the thermos on the back seat and prepared to leave. 

Aziraphale was staring at the Bentley from across the street, not resolved to leave just yet. He had told Crowley he was too fast, yet he hadn’t left yet. Perhaps he could slow down, all things considered. Aziraphale wasn’t too knowledgeable about demons in actuality, despite being best friends with one. He had never known if he was blaming Crowley for something in his nature or something personal. He never knew the story of how he fell. He had to know. Aziraphale changed his mind and took a step to cross the street. But Crowley sped away. Too slow. 

The angel didn’t move. He was lost in thought, stuck staring where the Bentley once was. At least they still had the picnic. 

“Aziraphale?” A voice rang out across the street. 

It was then that Aziraphale realized he was staring at a pair of gray slacks. “Oh dear.” He muttered to himself as his gaze moved upwards and he locked eyes with Gabriel. “Hello, Gabriel! Um, what brings you to Soho?” He stammered.

“I was just on my way to see you. It’s been quite a while hasn’t it, Aziraphale?” The Archangel explained. “We heard there was a lot of demonic activity lately. Your workload must be strenuous.” 

“Oh, well, yes! I’m definitely on my toes trying to stop all the evil here.” Aziraphale began. “But I’m perfectly okay with that, of course! Keeps the days going.” 

“So, no backup required? That’s great news!” Gabriel said with his usual chipper tone. 

“Nope! It’s all fine and dandy here, Sir, Gabriel.” Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure where these reports of demonic activity came from. As far as he was concerned, there hadn’t been much going on, but he didn’t want to give Gabriel a reason to take him off of Earth. Perhaps Crowley was fibbing on his memos again. Reinforcements were the last thing he needed, though. One angel was all Soho needed. It was the way he liked it. 

“Well that’s perfect, Aziraphale. That’s much better for us anyway.” Gabriel replied sternly, eliciting a relieved smile from the Principality. “So who was in the car?” 

Aziraphale’s smile fell rapidly. “Um, you saw that? Just an old friend, really.” He answered in a panic. 

“Ugh, why would you want to be friends with humans? I don’t understand how you do any of this Aziraphale.” The Archangel feigned a gag. If Gabriel had bothered to create a digestive system it surely would be real. “You’re so dedicated for staying on this planet for so long.” 

“Well, some of them are nice.” Aziraphale said truthfully. 

A half smile appeared on Gabriel’s face. “Well, whatever helps you keep your cover. I’ll be back for a status update.” And then he disappeared as quickly as he arrived. 

Aziraphale let out a deep, purifying breath that he thought must’ve surely been held for at least a decade. Perhaps two. With the distraction gone, all that was left in Aziraphale’s mind was Crowley. For lack of better words, Aziraphale was fully and truly _bummed_ out that he declined Crowley’s invitation. With the inconsistency of their two parties, he wasn’t sure how many more years, or tens of years, it would be until he saw Crowley again. He had to come visit Aziraphale soon though, the angel thought. His bookshop had been set up for nearly two centuries, so surely Crowley would swing by sometime. Then they could go out again.

It was in Aziraphale’s nature to try and stay positive, even if he didn’t believe it himself. If he didn’t believe he would see Crowley again soon, he wasn’t confident that he’d stick around. The next offer he got from Gabriel would certainly seem more tempting. That wily demon who he cared for most dearly was, regrettably, his foremost reason for staying on Earth. He loved humans and everything they created - nearly - but he could find that same love anywhere, he was sure. Yet he also knew he wouldn’t find the friendship he had in Crowley in anyone _but_ Crowley. And for that, he had to stay. Aziraphale would be damned sooner than he’d lose his friendship with Crowley. Metaphorically. He wasn’t sure about that. 


	4. Bookshop, Chocolates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale receives a double surprise visit from a friend and an enemy, and scrambles to keep them apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, little disclaimer here. This is based off of the revered chocolates deleted scene, but I took a lot of liberties here to make it my own. It's instead set in 2000, and while the prompt is the same, everything else differs from how Gaiman wrote his scene.

_Soho, London, 2000,_

There were hundreds, maybe thousands of books inside the _A.Z. Fell and Co._ Bookshop; home to some of the rarest books of all, and none would leave the shop. That’s how Aziraphale liked it. It was more of a personal library than a bookshop if he was honest. The only time he didn’t panic from visitors was with Crowley. Unfortunately, this time it was quite the opposite. Gabriel had arrived with questions, and naught ten feet behind his shoulder, Aziraphale could see Crowley. The demon held up a box of chocolates and some flowers. Not only was Aziraphale panicking, but he was now deeply confused. They’d been on this earth for nearly six thousand years, so what were the odds that these two kept showing up at the same time? He was already flustered, as any angel would be from an unannounced Archangel visit. This, however. Aziraphale did not know how he would survive. 

Crowley had decided to visit Aziraphale because it was the anniversary of the bookshop’s grand opening. He would never admit to keeping track of such a date, but he would always try to squeeze something small but special in. He knew how much the angel cared about the shop, and it gave Crowley the chance to enjoy Aziraphale’s company. He enjoyed it more than he cared to admit. Much more. And here he was, staring at a panicked Aziraphale. Normally that wouldn’t raise any red flags, but there was something peculiar about the way his eyes were darting. This was a fear that Crowley had seen before, but it must’ve been a long time ago. He couldn’t place it. Crowley tilted his head in confusion and pointed to the chocolates, hoping the angel would calm down. In front of Aziraphale was a tall man in a light suit, which led Crowley to believe he was trying to stop a sale. Crowley was well-versed in the art of dissuading sales, so he approached the angel. He hadn’t made it two feet before the angel burst out.

“No!” He stared at Crowley and sweat so much he considered grabbing a ‘Wet Floor’ sign. 

Crowley stopped in his tracks as the suited man began to turn around. Aziraphale instinctively grabbed the man’s shoulder to stop him from turning. “Um! My apologies, Sir. It’s just that…” Aziraphale trailed off or spoke too quietly for Crowley to hear. 

Fear and adrenaline pumped through the angel as he scrambled to find an excuse. “I have something to show you over here, Sir. Please follow me.” He explained, gently guiding Gabriel in front of him. 

Crowley watched Aziraphale with his mouth agape. He was at a complete loss. The angel turned and mouthed something to Crowley but he couldn’t make it out. Something related to fishing, maybe. Crowley tilted his head and mouthed “What?” back. Aziraphale sighed and shook his head. He pointed to something to distract the man then turned his attention back to Crowley. He tilted his head towards the man and mouthed something again. Crowley had _no_ idea what he was trying to tell him. 

Aziraphale was at his wits end. “Gabriel,” he mouthed desperately. He prayed that Crowley would understand and make himself scarce. An encounter like this was _not_ explainable. How could he ever come up with a reason for a demon to be visiting his bookshop with chocolates? “Oh Lord, give me strength.” He muttered.

Gabriel turned to look at the angel and asked, “Did you say something?”

“Oh! Nothing Sir, right this way please.” Aziraphale said and guided Gabriel away. 

Crowley squinted as he caught a glimpse of the man’s face. “OH!” He yelled out as the realization struck him. He immediately regretted this. 

Gabriel whipped his head toward the sudden interjection as Crowley dove behind a shelf in a feeble attempt to hide. He held the chocolates tight to his chest, likely crushing everything inside. 

“What was _that_?” Gabriel asked.

Aziraphale started to sweat profusely but came up with a fast lie. “Oh, nothing. Probably just the shop cat.” 

“You’ve employed a cat? Is that normal?” 

“Um, not quite. She just lives here.” Aziraphale clarified. “So, what was it you needed?” 

“Yes, of course. We have an assignment for you, Aziraphale.” 

Crowley took this as an opportunity to sneak away to the back room and wait for Gabriel to leave. He couldn’t help but snicker at Aziraphale’s shop cat lie. So clever, but so stupid. 

After a couple minutes he heard a deep voice call out, “Thank you for helping me purchase my pornography, good sir!” followed by a quiet chuckle and the sound of a door closing. Crowley came out of the back room and sang out, “Oh, Angel?” 

“Over here, Crowley.” Aziraphale shouted back, his voice strained. It almost made Crowley feel bad for him.

He approached the unusually slouched angel tentatively. Crowley inspected his form closely, looking for signs of trauma or any residual fear. He seemed okay, but rattled. Still, the proper thing to do was ask. “You doing alright?” 

Aziraphale sighed. “Oh, Crowley. That was _far_ too stressful for me! I thought I would definitely have a heart attack.”

“Now, now, Aziraphale. We both know that’s not possible.” Crowley said in a calm tone. 

“You don’t know that! We can bleed, who’s to say we can’t die of old age?” Aziraphale bellowed out.

“Well, for starters, that body is over five thousand years old.” Crowley explained.

“Oh, you’re right Crowley, I know! But that was simply _dreadful_! I think I have to adopt a cat now.” Aziraphale whined. “Why are you here anyway?” 

“Oh, don’t act like you’re not happy to see me, Angel.” Crowley replied with a devilish smirk. “I brought you these.” He shoved the chocolates and flowers at Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale perked up almost immediately and reached for the box. “Crowley! These look delicious! I can’t believe you still remember.” A tender smile formed on Aziraphale’s face. 

“Um, still remember what?” Crowley lied. He didn’t want the angel thinking he was considerate. Not one bit. 

“I’m not daft, Crowley. I know my own shop anniversary.” Aziraphale placed a hand on the demon’s shoulder and smiled. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. We’re together here often.”

“I don’t see why you think I would remember that.” Crowley was beginning to feel flustered. “Can’t I just show up and bring you chocolates and flowers?” 

“Well I don’t think you’d do that without reason, Crowley. You’re not exactly the romantic type.” The angel said. 

Crowley couldn’t help but feel cornered. He knew it was obvious, but becoming defensive about kindness was in his nature. He _wanted_ to let Aziraphale know he was being considerate and cared about him, but he feared the admission would be his demise. “I only care because it gives me somewhere to go other than my flat, you know.” Crowley said with indignance as he crossed his arms.

“Of course, dear. I wouldn’t expect anything else. But you _were_ an angel once, Crowley. It’s okay to remember things that are important to your friends.” Aziraphale said softly, trying to tread lightly. It was a well-known fact that Crowley had a tendency to panic when he was referred to as anything slightly _resembling_ kind.

Was it really so bad to have some kindness left in him still? He was certainly the most magnanimous demon around by a long shot, and possibly the only one to ever feel remorse. But he couldn't be nice. He wasn’t nice. Not even to the purest, kindest angel he’d ever met. An angel so dedicated to _caring_ , going as far as saving an enemy. He'd risked everything and then some for Crowley. It was impossible to tell if Aziraphale was a disgrace or the perfect angel, and that’s what Crowley found so endearing. Never was there an angel so dedicated. Crowley was almost certain Aziraphale could destroy all of Heaven and he still wouldn't fall. But that couldn’t be true. “Crowley? You still with me?” Aziraphale asked, squeezing his shoulder lightly. 

“I, uh, yeah. It’s just, there’s too much to accept than I can handle, Angel.” Crowley admitted, his voice hushed and worn out. 

“Of course.” Aziraphale spoke softly. “Come on then, let’s eat some chocolates.” 

Crowley smiled and followed Aziraphale to the back. “Do you still have any of that Châteauneuf-du-Pape left?” 

“Indeed. I save it for you, after all.” The angel said without looking back. He didn’t want Crowley to see his dopey smile. 


	5. The Duck Pond, Newspapers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley enjoy a sunny afternoon by the duck pond. Gabriel proves his understanding of humanity is abysmal.

_St. James’ Park, London, 2005,_

It was a delightfully gorgeous day in London; clouds sparsely decorated the sky, birds 

danced on the water and in the air, and two timeless friends sat together on a bench reading the local paper. The day was predictable and ever so relaxing. Aziraphale read the newspaper headline _"Bird Influenza Becoming Endemic?"_ and felt the slightest tinge of panic in his chest. "Um, Crowley? Did your lot do this?" He asked, eyes frantically reading the article. 

No reply. Aziraphale turned to face Crowley and asked once more, "Crowley? Bird flu?" 

There were two facts about Crowley in this moment, both Aziraphale would not enjoy. The first is that Crowley does, in fact, have the newspaper open, but not to the headlines. The second fact is that Crowley hasn't heard a single word Aziraphale said for the past five minutes. The angel extended a hand to grab Crowley's shoulder and, yet again, asked, "Is everything okay, dear?" 

"Hm, what?" Crowley looked Aziraphale in the eye, a smirk plastered on his face.

"Why are you-" Aziraphale leaned over Crowley's shoulder to look at his newspaper. "Oh my word, you're reading the funnies!" He pushed Crowley gently with the hand on his shoulder. 

"Is that a sin? They're funny, Angel." 

"You do realize there's an avian influenza epidemic, right?!" Aziraphale asked, panic evident in the change of his pitch. 

"Well, the ducks look fine to me." Crowley said with a chuckle and leaned against the bench.

"Crowley! It's very serious, please! People could die!" The angel pleaded. There wasn't much that Aziraphale cared for more than unnecessary human death. He still wasn't over Noah's Ark if he was honest. 

"Relax, Angel. It's all sensationalism, my people run the press." Crowley said with a wave of his hand. 

Crowley was neither wrong nor right. Newspapers were _,_ for the most part, comprised of real human beings. But they weren’t without influence. It was a fact that Hell’s most profitable source for corruption was the press, and Crowley couldn’t be bothered to keep that secret. However, Aziraphale wished he hadn’t shared. Crowley had made somewhat of a name for himself with spreading unwanted knowledge. This might just ruin papers for Aziraphale all together. 

“Even the small town papers?” He asked, a pout clear as day on his face. 

Crowley felt the smallest twinge of remorse and made a hasty decision to lie. He was supposed to sin anyway. This was a win-win. “Oh, of course not, it’s all about the big picture. Hell wouldn’t care about a town as small as, say, Tadfield or Bathgate.” 

“Oh. Good.” Aziraphale smiled fondly to himself, seemingly content with that answer. 

It seemed that the pair had been growing more fond of themselves over the years. And each other. Very rapidly since the 2000’s began, actually. Perhaps an attitude shift was to thank; after all, they hadn’t properly fought in nearly three decades. A new record. Aziraphale picked up the newspaper and flipped through the pages lightly. He thought that, perhaps, Crowley had a good reason to read the comics. Gingerly searching for the right page, he glanced to his left to make sure Crowley didn’t notice. If there was one thing he’d certainly never give Crowley on purpose, it was more reason to be smug. But the demon had already noticed. The dark tint of his glasses made it far too easy to steal glances and not be noticed. Aziraphale finally found the comics and giggled to himself. Crowley shifted just a hair closer to the angel. Curiosity on if they had the same print-out was the reason Crowley gave himself, but of course that was ridiculous. It was better than the truth, though. 

Aziraphale abruptly shoved the paper into his lap and Crowley quickly leaned away. The angel was very suddenly overcome with the feeling that he was being watched and whipped his head around. “Gabriel.” He said quietly but urgently. “Get down.” Aziraphale ordered. 

“Wow, bossy are we, Angel?” Crowley teased, having missed the first part. 

“Get down!” Aziraphale hissed.

In an uncharacteristic act of aggression, Aziraphale used both hands to bend Crowley in half. He felt the Archangel coming closer and in a rushed action, put his newspaper on Crowley’s back, followed shortly by his elbow. He tried to look casual. 

While the average person would not have noticed a change in the atmosphere, Aziraphale felt a sudden and very distinct sense of love, but not the love he’d prefer. It was more along the lines of the feeling you get after spending hours cleaning a room you hadn’t touched in years. A mix of something coming to an end and the joy of being tidy. Or at least, that’s how a human would describe it. To Aziraphale, Gabriel’s presence felt more like the melancholy of a completely barren home, and all the memories it carried. They would surely be lost, but there was still the residual feelings of fondness. That was him. Gabriel came running down the trail in a blaze of gray. His outfits didn’t impress Aziraphale much if he was honest. They were too simple and bland. From a brief glance, it seemed Gabriel had something in his left hand. “Stay down.” Aziraphale hissed to the still bent Crowley as the Archangel approached. 

Crowley grumbled but complied. God knows why. 

“Hey, Aziraphale!” Gabriel called out, opening his arms as he approached. 

“Hi, Gabriel. What brings you to earth?” 

“My celestial body was feeling indisposed with the suffocating atmosphere of my office.” Gabriel answered with a curt nod. “Thought I’d come feed the ducks.” He gestured to the loaf of bread in his left hand.

“Oh, that’s lovely.” Aziraphale said with a smile. “Planning to stay for a while then?” 

“Hm, why do you say that?” Gabriel said as he walked towards the pond. 

“Oh, well you have so much-” Aziraphale cut himself off at the scene unfolding before him. 

Gabriel approached the pond and, without hesitation, tossed the bag of bread into the water. The loaf struck the pond with so much force it wasn’t clear if the ducks would ever return. The plastic billowed as the bread sloshed around the surface of the water. “More than enough to go around!” Gabriel bellowed with a wide smile. 

“The… the plastic…” Aziraphale was in complete shock. 

“Well, that was cathartic! Time to get back upstairs.” The Archangel did a brief cooldown stretch and said a quick goodbye to Aziraphale. 

The angel stared at the loaf, bobbing up and down gently in the pond. What on _earth_ just happened? And Gabriel was _gone_ now, no less? He really cut to the chase. Maybe the bread was still okay. Maybe Aziraphale could get it out. Before he could think for long, his elbow was shoved into his face and a low hiss came from his side. “He’s gone, you know! You could’ve got off.” 

“Oh, good Lord!” Aziraphale sputtered out. “I’m so sorry, Crowley!” He offered a reassuring touch. 

“Yeah, it’s alright. Calm down, Angel.” Crowley said, shrugging Aziraphale’s hand off of him. “So did he really- oh my God, the bastard did my job for me. What are you lot teaching up there?” He said with a hearty laugh. 

“He really did, didn’t he?” Aziraphale looked into Crowley’s eyes and began to laugh as well. 

Crowley continued to laugh then composed himself for just long enough to pull off his best Gabriel impression. “Good Evening, fellow human person. I am here to hurl a full loaf of bread at these waterfowl for personal enjoyment. Care to chat?”

While the wording was eccentric, Aziraphale couldn’t contain his laughter at how perfectly Crowley captured his speech and mannerisms. He pushed the demon gently in good faith and the pair laughed together. 

“We really ought to get that bread out of there, hm?” Crowley spoke up as their laughter settled into content smiles. 

“Yes, we should.” Aziraphale resolved himself to a softer smile as he looked into Crowley’s eyes. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” Crowley demanded and got off the bench. 

“Like what? Where are you going?” Aziraphale’s smile quickly became a frown. 

“To get the bread.” He stated as he walked towards the water. 

The smile returned.

It was moments like this where Aziraphale knew Crowley shouldn’t have fallen, but then again, he couldn’t imagine him not in black. By no stretch of the imagination did Aziraphale believe in fate, but he did believe that that moment was the most right he’d felt in a long time.


	6. Berkeley Square, Picnics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley finally arranges the promised picnic with Aziraphale 2 years after Armageddon. An unwelcome passer-by unearths a new side of Aziraphale.

_Berkeley Square, London, Two Years After ‘Armageddon’,_

It was a gorgeous afternoon in London, although the forecast had called for heavy rain. No one knew how the weatherman got it so wrong, but they certainly weren’t complaining; nearly the whole of London was outside by noon. Shops were flooded with parents, desperate to capitalize on the sunny day, and the parks were flooded with couples. Amongst the throngs of lovers in Berkeley Square that afternoon, there was a very special, very odd pair sat around a plaid blanket. “Why does it have to be red plaid?” The red-head groaned. 

“Because, Crowley. This picnic must be perfect.” Insisted the other. 

“Oh, but it’s soooo kitsch, Aziraphale.” Crowley dramatically feigned a headache to get his point across. 

“Well, tough! You promised me a perfect picnic, and this is it!” Aziraphale said with a huff. “If you ever stop whining, would you be a dear and help me unpack the basket?” 

“I’m not whining.” Crowey grumbled to himself as he took some sandwiches out of the basket. 

Aziraphale smiled a rare smug smile and hummed happily to himself. It was true that every couple there thought _their_ picnic was the magnum opus of picnics, but Aziraphale was _certain_ that theirs truly was. Consider the facts: an unnaturally beautiful day, they stopped the apocalypse - well, they helped - they no longer had to fear their respective head offices, and Aziraphale _definitely_ had the best company of anyone there. 

During the planning of their ‘effortlessly’ perfect picnic, Crowley was decided as the one to pack everything. Aziraphale could see no better picnic. As he unpacked, he was pleasantly surprised by everything that he pulled out. There was a lavish array of cheeses, crackers, an extraordinary amount of fruits, and, of course, a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape. The latter wasn’t a surprise though. Aziraphale could admit he had a small hand in packing. In his defense, it was an awfully elusive wine, and the picnic simply wouldn’t be complete without it. They held so many memories, both bright and bitter, with that bottle; late night chats, early morning breakfast dates, and shared glasses during lunch. Aziraphale thought of those moments fondly, realizing that, by human terms, those _had_ been dates, hadn’t they? The angel looked down and felt his entire face burn. 

“You alright, Angel? Surely you can’t be drunk yet.” Crowley teased. He was, in reality, not very concerned for Aziraphale at all. 

“Um, yes! Quite alright, Crowley.” He stammered, refusing to look up. 

“Are you sure about that? You’re looking hotter than Hellfire and I’ve hardly said a thing yet.” Crowley smirked and reached an arm out to squeeze Aziraphale’s shoulder. 

If it were at all possible, that simple gesture would’ve made Aziraphale’s blush more intense. “Would you please pass me a cup?” 

The demon obliged only because he was determined to make Aziraphale as flustered as possible. At this point, he didn’t really have much to lose. He certainly wouldn’t lose Aziraphale, and he no longer felt threatened by Hell, so why not try to get his point across for once? He really wasn’t sure why the angel had suddenly flushed, but Crowley would be damned if he didn’t capitalize on it. 

The second Aziraphale had the cup, he began pouring wine into it. Once it was filled, he shoved it into Crowley’s hands. “Drink up.” He said simply. 

“And what about yourself?” Crowley asked. 

While it might seem wrong, especially for a demon, Crowley had never drank alone before, and it wasn’t something he planned on doing any time soon. He scrambled to grab the other cup in hopes that he could persuade the angel to drink with him. It wasn’t like Aziraphale could embarrass himself any further. 

“Oh, I should’ve known.” Came a deep voice that belonged to neither Crowley nor Aziraphale. 

“Why the _Hell_ are you here?” Crowley hissed as he glared up at the Archangel Gabriel.

“Lucky for you, Heaven wasn’t destroyed because we _had no war_ \- thanks, by the way - so I still require exercise for the Temple that is my Ethereal Form _._ ” 

“ _Psh._ Lucky for _you_ more than me, I’d say.” Crowley muttered.

Gabriel sneered. “What are you two even doing here?”

“None of your business. Not anymore, at least.” Aziraphale finally spoke up. Crowley quickly turned his head towards Aziraphale, shocked and a touch excited by the angel’s newfound backbone. 

“Have you seen your face, Aziraphale? What _is_ that? Embarrassment?” Gabriel noted his bright red appearance. “Until recently, I never would’ve expected you to fall for a common demon’s temptations.” 

Crowley scrunched his face in annoyance. The connection between the two of them was far more than a temptation, and he hoped Aziraphale knew that. No temptation was worth six _thousand_ years of work. He was about to give Gabriel a piece of his mind when Aziraphale spoke up. 

“This isn’t some temptation, Gabriel. It’s much more than that. It’s special.” 

That elicited a spectacularly fond smile from Crowley.

“I’ve seen his temptations, and honestly, he’s really quite awful at it.” Aziraphale said.

That one did _not._ “Hey!” Crowley defended.

“I’m deeply sorry, my dear, but it’s the truth.” He quickly shot Crowley an apologetic look.

Gabriel stared at the pair, his face scrunched up as he tried to decipher their relationship. “Well, if it’s not that, then what is it?” 

“That’s for us to find out and you to never know.” Aziraphale said firmly. “Now leave us alone, Gabriel.” 

Perhaps the body swap had gone to his head, but Aziraphale had never felt so alive and completely untouchable before. Crowley squeezed his arm gently in reassurance and offered a small smile. “Get out of here already.” Crowley insisted. 

With a low growl, Gabriel vanished from sight. It was just the two of them now. And the hundreds of other couples in Berkeley Square. They tried to settle down again as the feelings of invincibility and an overwhelming need to clean faded away. Crowley, who had never stopped looking at Aziraphale, finally looked down and finished setting up their picnic. “He was tetchier than usual, wasn’t he? I hope that didn’t ruin the perfect picnic, Angel.” 

It hadn’t. The only thing that could ruin the perfect picnic was if Crowley wasn’t there, but that wouldn’t happen. Aziraphale was sure of it. It was just the two of them for the rest of their lives. “Why did you have to make the weather perfect, by the way? There’s so many people here.” Crowley asked.

“With you, my dear, it’s always just the two of us to me.” Aziraphale said softly, making the bold move to reach for Crowley’s hand. He had nothing to lose anymore, only everything to gain.

Crowley smiled warmly at the gesture and gladly took Aziraphale’s hand. There had never been a better picnic. 

It could be said that Crowley and Aziraphale were somewhere in the middle of Heaven and Hell, and that neither fully belonged anywhere. but they did have a home. It was just here, with each other, right now. And as far as Crowley was concerned, he was in Heaven again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed my story. This is my first fic in a very long time, so I'm a little rusty but it was a delight writing this story! Hopefully none of my creative liberties were too jarring. If you'd like me to write some more, I do have a couple one-shot ideas and I'd love to hear some feedback about this story. Thank you for reading <3


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